Coffee and Corporate Espionage
by YourDepressedPenPal
Summary: A chance meeting in a cafe leads to undercover missions, sexy outfits, and a mountain of paperwork. Fresh out of grad school, Emma Swan may be a bit out of her depth. At least there's great eye candy. AU SwanQueen from the get go. Upgraded to M for swearwords and eventual sexytimes.
1. Fate?

**Friendly Warning from the Author: Copious amounts of awkward Emma lie within. I tried to write a purely fluffy fic but it kind of went sideways somewhere. ******** Also, I'll be honest i kind of haven't been sleeping a lot lately and i've been living on coffee so about halfway through i lost a lot of focus. this is unbetaed. i apologize for the mistakes.**

**I'm also kind of nervous to post this since an author recently wrote a whole story about a similar scene. It's actually really awesome and you should read it. It's **Coffee To Go **by **unicyclehippo**. I hope mine reads differently and doesn't offend anyone. No plagiarism intended.**

**P.S.- Don't own.**

_"Vincent: A "please" would be nice._

_The Wolf: Come again?_

_Vincent: I said a "please" would be nice._

_The Wolf: Get it straight, Buster. I'm not here to say "please". I'm here to tell you what to do._

_ And if self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better fucking do it and do it quick. _

_I'm here to help. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck, gentlemen."_

_-Pulp Fiction_

Emma Swan is having a pretty shitty day.

Her graduate thesis deadline is next week, her boss decided to extend her hours, her roommate/best friend told her she was going to move in with her boyfriend, and- to top it all off- her Bug won't start.

"Come on..." she mutters as the engine lets out an unnatural squeal. Passers-by on the busy Boston street glance at her with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Come on, you piece of shit!" she yells, turning the key.

A brief sputter follows and then silence.

Trying to start the car again only produces a faint click and a surly Emma. She smacks her head on the steering wheel, spitting out an impressive string of curses as pain shoots through her head.

Peeling her head off of the wheel, she says, "This day could not get any worse."

So _of-fucking-course _it starts to rain. Fat drops of water ping a steady crescendo on her car.

A loud roll of thunder hides her frustrated scream. She has to take several deep breaths to calm herself. Her stomach rumbles gently on her tenth deep breath, reminding her that she hasn't eaten since seven in the morning. Before her car had decided to die, she had been eyeing a lovely café across the street. The sign that proclaimed fresh apple pie is barely visible through the rain, but there nonetheless.

Deciding that getting food in her stomach would make this whole day less stressful, she reluctantly zips up her leather jacket and runs out into the rain. Cold water from the street splashes and soaks into her ankles as she darts under the red awning. The sign is still there, unaffected by the sudden downpour.

"Lucky bastard," she grumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose. A_nd now you're jealous of a sign, _she thinks with a scoff. _Get it together, Swan._

Taking another deep breath, she shakes a bit of the water out of her hair. She must look insane: wild eyes, dripping hair, shivering from the cold, and talking to unsuspecting signs. Luckily, the café is fairly empty; no one seems to have witnessed her mental breakdown. Her stomach rumbles again, louder than before.

As Emma steps forward to open the door- hand on the damn handle- she is tackled by a flurry of black hair and coffee. The person knocks her back several steps, shocking her more than anything.

It takes a couple seconds to realize her favorite leather jacket is dripping with coffee.

_That's going to stain._

"Aw shit!" she mutters instinctively. "Fucking hell, like I needed this..."

An indignant huff draws her attention to the similarly disheveled woman across from her. Woman probably isn't an accurate term for the beauty staring at her. Perfectly styled shoulder-length raven black hair, expensive black trench coat (now splashed with coffee), pressed black slacks, tall red heels, and crimson lips turned into an angry frown create an ethereal image.

_Jesus Christ. She's gorgeous. Almost... Regal. And you've already dropped the f-bomb in front of her. Say something smooth!_

Her brain then decides to totally disconnect from her mouth. "Wow, um, I'm sorry! I wasn't even paying attention and that coat looks really expensive so... I guess- um. I'm sorry!" She has to physically contain the strong urge to slap herself.

The woman's eyes narrow at her stammered apology, and Emma feels her cheeks heat up at the scrutiny. "Are you always this inarticulate, or has ramming into me damaged your brain?" she snaps, her voice screaming wealth and sophistication.

"Are you always this bitchy, or has ramming into me bruised your huge ego?" She bites back, miffed at the superiority. No matter how beautiful the brunette is, Emma wasn't going to let anyone talk to her that way. Not after all she's fought for. "I said I was sorry." _Bitch_, she mentally adds.

There's tiny twitch at the corner of the other woman's mouth. "So you did. However, apologies don't clean stains off of coats or purchase new cups of coffee."

"They don't. They also can't afford the dry cleaning."

"They can attempt to." The brunette gives a her pointed look at that, and the two lapse into an awkward silence.

A bit bewildered by the stare coming from the woman, Emma a wild stab in the dark, "Are you trying to ask me to ask you if I can buy you coffee?"

The brunette blinks in response, obviously working through her clunky question.

_You probably couldn't have said that more eloquently._

Emma attempts to mend the bridge again, "Because I'd love to. Buy you another coffee, I mean. Not ask you if I can. But I am asking you."

The brunette frowns at her clarification. Rejection washes over Emma, her shoulders unconsciously slumping and gaze shifting to the ground. The gorgeous woman is way out of her league anyway. It's not like rejection is anything new for her, anyway. This may be the fourth time this week she's been turned down. _I'm sensing a long and single future.__  
_

In her wallowing, she almost misses the hesitant, "Um... Okay?"

The expression on her face must be somewhere in between surprised and dopey, because the next thing she knows, the brunette lashes out. "But that is _not_ what I was implying. I just can't stand to see an opportunity to extort a free cup of coffee go to waste."

"It's hardly extorting if the victim is willing. I would've offered regardless of your attempt to con me. I'd hate to have a beautiful wom-coat get ruined," she finishes quickly, praying the brunette didn't hear her slip. Her smirk says otherwise. "I'm Emma, by the way."

A brief silence follows her declaration. "...Regina," she says hesitantly, the tiniest smile gracing her lips.

She opens the door to the café, paying close attention to the old man the meanders out. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...

_And I look like a bigger idiot in front of the hottest woman I've ever met._

They enter the café, the breeze from door reminding making her shiver.

"Cold, dear?" Regina questions sarcastically.

"It's a bit nippy out," the blonde quips, shuffling behind the small line in front of the counter. The few occupants are similarly dressed to Regina- expensive coats, scarves, watches, and what Emma will forever swear is a gilded umbrella- giving her an itchy sense of not belonging.

The brunette must sense her discomfort. She snips, "You still owe me a dry cleaning bill. Don't think this makes up for everything."

"As I recall, you were the one who ran into _me._" Emma retorts.

"I don't run into people."

"Well you just did. First time for everyone, _dear_," She throws in a wink for good measure.

Regina huffs and rolls her eyes.

_Well that's not a rejection, per say.._.

Regina then chooses that moment to turn and look at the menu, giving Emma an eyeful of an excellent ass beneath that expensive coat.

A "what can I get for you?" interrupts her ogling. She glances at a smirking Regina. _She totally saw._

"Whatever the lady likes," she answers the young guy. Regina's smirk grows wider at this, and Emma has a horrible premonition of a bone dry wallet floating in gallons of expensive coffee.

"A small black coffee, please." Regina orders instead.

Emma has to contain her surprise at the simple order. It's the same thing she prefers. _And it's cheap!_

"That'll be three seventy nine."

_Relatively cheap, _she amends.

She pays the cashier and they get the order, making absolutely normal small talk all the while. Nothing about Regina's ass was brought up. Out loud. It's through this small talk that Emma learns two things about the brunette: she's rich and has mommy issues.

Of course, Regina didn't say out loud "I just want my mother to love me," but Emma has spent enough time around broken people to see how they've fractured. Regina's mother was mentioned only once; her faraway gaze told the blonde everything she needed to know. It's the same look Emma had on those long days in the foster homes in Maine.

Emma, however, didn't hold a position in her mother's law firm. What Emma did have was a three room flat with a decent view and a mountain of student debt. She wasn't the young 20 something lawyer with a meteoric rise- just a prospective journalist struggling to get by.

_Should've listened to the critics. What can you do with an journalism degree?_

The pair find a seat in the back of the shop. Regina sits down so primly that Emma becomes acutely aware of her ungraceful plop. Even the brunette's sips of coffee are sophisticated. The itchy feeling returns, forcing Emma to look outside. Rain runs down the glass like liquid silver.

_Ugh, stop with the clichéd similes._

"What about you, Emma?" Regina inquires as the blonde watches a particularly big droplet wind its way down the window.

"Hmm?" she hums, turning to face the brunette.

"What do you do? Cop? Bounty hunter? Professional tight end? A job where you run into people often?" Regina teases. The brunette takes another delicate sip of coffee.

"It seems I've left quite the impression on you. I'm afraid my real occupation isn't very exciting. I'm a grad student at UMass," she replies, shoving a damp lock of hair out of her face. She omits the part where she has to work two jobs just to pay for it. A disadvantage of being an orphan, it would seem. The university wouldn't even admit her at first. They cited a disturbing lack of legal paperwork. She had to create a couple that were her legal guardians.

_What the school doesn't know, won't hurt them._

Regina quirks an eyebrow. "A scholar. What do you study?"

"I'm a student of Journalism and hopeful journalist." The brunette's other eyebrow raises at this.

"Really? A writer?"

Emma shrugs in response.

A blinding smile appears. "I'd love to read your work sometime." Mental alarm bells ring; Emma is definitely sensing flirty undertones.

_Why don't you come back to my place and I'll give you a preview of my latest works?_

"I mostly write dull articles on the latest business fiascoes. Nothing mind-blowing. I'm focusing on business journalism," she says instead. _Definitely charming the pants off of this one._

Regina laughs in a way that says "of course you do."

"What?" Emma asks, utterly bewildered.

"It's perfect!" she exclaims, sipping her coffee happily. _This woman is giving me emotional whiplash._

Emma's confusion deepens. "Uh... What, exactly, is perfect?"

The other woman's eyes twinkle as she elaborates, "The Firm is looking for someone with your talents. We have a subdivision dealing strictly with corporate law that many companies find... valuable in their transactions. Lucky for you, a position has recently opened!"

Emma balks at the offer. Is Regina serious? Why her? She hasn't so much as touched a law book. Her specialty is economic reporting. It's factual, predictable, and analytical. The intricacies of law aren't a central concern. She's only dealt with it when a company is found breaking the law.

"Okay, I'm not sure I follow. Why are you offering me the position? I'm not a law student. And we've just met."

Sobering, the brunette takes a less ladylike swig of her coffee. A creamy slice of flesh is revealed as the coat shifts, charging the silence. Emma drags her gaze up to meet Regina's. She's working her lip in possibly the sexiest way Emma has ever seen. _Damn __she's hot. _Emma whistles internally.

Regina breaks the silence first. "It's doesn't really deal with law."

"What the hell does it deal with then?" The whole cryptic confusing routine was wearing down Emma's patience and self control. She simultaneously wanted to kiss and slap the brunette for her vague statements.

Smile disappearing, Regina sets the coffee down and pulls her coat closed. "The Firm has an arrangement where a certain employee is sent into the client's associated business to gather data on operations," she elaborates, the twinkle in her eyes replaced by flint.

"Gather data..." Emma mutters, longing for that glimpse of olive flesh. Suddenly, a bucket of ice is been poured over her head. She glances furtively at the few occupants of the cafe, acutely aware of any glance in their direction.

"You're talking about corporate espionage." She hisses.

Regina's smirk is more predatory now- equal parts enticing and deadly. Her eyes rake over Emma's slightly damp form like a lion observes their prey. Talk about a huge turn on. "Now, now... Let's not go calling names."

Ignoring the ache building down low, she retorts, "Illegal is illegal. I'm not into jail sentences." Images of a man with sandy hair flit briefly through her thoughts.

_"You think you can do it?"_

_"I know I can."_

She shakes her head, dispelling the memories. "Besides, I'm _definitely_ not equipped to do that," she lies outright. In fact, this is probably the job she is most qualified for. Avoiding the cops after the watch fiasco really widened her criminal horizons.

Regina pulls out a pen from one of her pockets, hurriedly grabbing a napkin. "This is the starting pay," she says, writing it on the napkin. She pushes it over, capping the pen and giving Emma an expectant look. Emma pulls the napkin close, glancing down at the number.

It's six figures.

_Holy. _

_Shit._

It's well over eight times her current salary. With this kind of money debt goes away, problems go away, and people go away.

"Well?" Regina prods with a cocked eyebrow. "Want the job?"

_The job. She's going to give me the job._ "Uh, yes," Emma sputters. "But why me?"

The predatory look retreats, and all that's left is a coy smile and relieved eyes. "Because you're cute," she answers simply. Before Emma can blink, Regina's on her feet with purse and coffee in hand.

"Here, take my business card," Regina rummages through her purse, and holds out the business card with an official air. Emma takes the card wordlessly, still speechless, "Call me when you want to make the position official."

She's halfway across to the door before Emma realizes she's leaving. "Wait!" she calls, frozen to her chair, "Who _are_ you?"

The brunette turns her head, answering over her shoulder as she walks out, "I already told you my name, my dear. Regina Mills!"

And then she's gone.

_Hottest. Dramatic exit._ _Ever._


	2. Obsessing is Unhealthy

**A.N.: You guys rock! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and you guest reviewers need to get an account so I can personally respond to your kind words! This one is a bit shorter, but the next chapter is looking to be huge. With lots of SQ. **

**In case the layout confuses you, the apartment has a huge (relatively) center block containing the kitchen/dining room and living room, as well as two bedrooms on the side. Thus, the three room flat. Ahhh, technicalities.**

* * *

_All along the western front_  
_People line up to receive_  
_She got the power in her hand_  
_To shock you like you won't believe_

_-Electric Feel, MGMT_

"I am not obsessed," Emma mutters.

It's become a mantra for her, and the go to response for her roommate Mary Margaret's questions. Emma had apparently been wearing a smile of a girl in love or about to stalk someone when she walked in the apartment door. So naturally, Mary Margaret probed. Despite appearances, she is a _very _effective interrogator. Which is why Emma is currently sulking in the corner of the dining room (as they liked to call the back half of the kitchen) with the business card in hand.

Regina Mills flashes by in elegant black script as she flips the card over and over.

"You're staring at that thing like it will transport you to her," Mary Margaret chastises, pulling a bottle of wine out and pouring it into a red solo cup. "Honestly, you look a bit awestruck."

"I'm not obsessed," Emma repeats. She flips the card again, reveling in the raised lettering. There's a tiny crown watermark in the bottom right corner. _Regal, indeed._

The raven haired soon-to-be schoolteacher/glorified babysitter sighs. "I didn't say you were obsessed." She pushes the cup over to the blonde.

"You're implying it," she grouses, snatching the cup and taking a swig. It tastes _revolting. _Emma has to fight the urge to gag. "What hell is this? This isn't wine!" she cries.

Mary Margaret ignores her protest, "Just call her! Or show up at the place! For god's sake you need a job."

She takes another sip; her stomach turns in protest. "Seriously, what is this? Is this another health shake? We've talked about this MM! I need mouthwash for this shit."

"Well, maybe the university meal plan just doesn't sit well with my stomach!" Mary Margaret snaps. Her health crazes are a sore point in their roomlationship. Mary Margaret likes her pants size; Emma likes her food size. "But, seriously, what is there to lose?" she continues, ignoring the interruption.

Two can play that game. "It covers the cafeteria and you can use the plan at fast food restaurants. Like that burger place on 5th." Those burgers were heavenly.

Emma's stomach grumbles at the thought of the melted cheese, beefy burger, and the special sauce...

"I'm sure there's some fru-fru salad place out there somewhere. Just keep your shit out of the wine bottle!"

"Not all of us can have your metaboli- stop distracting me!" Mary Margaret huffs. Her face has reddened, a sign of the teacher-in-training's frustration."Listen, I'm just thinking about the future."

"The future? It's not like we are getting married. There's not even a 'we' yet!" Emma exclaims. She's not unhappy about that last part at all. Definitely not.

MM sighs again, her face returning to its normal color. "That's... not what I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, I think you should try to see this Regina Mills person- but I'm specifically talking about finances."

"Oh. Right." Of course! Why would marriage even be brought up? That'd be... _obsessive._

Emma contains a snarl as Mary Margaret continues, "As you know, I'm going to be moving in with David soon, and we both know your waitressing jobs aren't going to cut it. Heck- those two jobs with my book store wages barely paid the bills."

_Heck? Really? How old are we MM. _"What about my thesis?" she protests weakly.

"I'm sure the hours are better than those you have now. Besides, you told me last week that you were one well written conclusion away from a graduate degree." Mary Margaret gives her best admonishing schoolteacher look.

She deflates under the scrutiny, mumbling, "Yeah... But conclusions are hard."

"Oh please. You've written an entire business journal in three days after procrastinating for three weeks, _and _you pulled in a B!"

"The lowest B possible. Did you even _see _how caffeinated I was those three days? I don't even think my supervisor understood my explanations as I turned it in. I was twitching a lot, too." She elects not to mention how she was starting to see things. No one needs to know about her adventure with the plunger.

"My point is," Mary Margaret continues, ignoring Emma's protests, "that you are basically out of college. And you are about to turn down a job. I'm not sure you've been listening to the news lately, but the unemployment rate's pretty high."

"Listening to the news? MM, I'm a business journalist. Of course I know about the unemployment rate," Emma scoffs. She gets up and dumps the vile liquid in the sink before continuing, "I can take double shifts."

"And kill yourself working?" Mary Margaret retorts, pouring herself a cup of the shake. She takes a sip, wincing the tiniest bit.

Emma laughs, "See? Even you can't stand the taste."

"It's not about taste!" MM snaps. She takes a large swig in retaliation. The brunette doesn't even gag. However, her face has a greenish hue as she croaks, "Stop avoiding the subject!"

Sighing, Emma walks to the window above the table. "It's not the job I'm worried about. Don't you remember how my last relationship worked out?"

"Oh, Emma. James was an asshole. I doubt she's sleeping with that many people. Why would Regina even give you a card if she wasn't interested?" MM says, placing a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder. She shrugs it off, shaking her head. That pep talk really sucked.

"I don't know," she sighs, "I'm going to bed." Forcefully throwing the cup in the trash, she walks to her room. A few books are ruffled by her shoulders as she passes the small bookshelf in the living room.

"Don't think we're finished talking about this!" MM calls. _Great, now I'm going to become her newest lost cause. _"And David is coming over tonight!"

"Okay!" Emma yells back over her shoulder, "Maybe you should avoid the bed this time. It's creaky!" She doesn't even wait to savor the raging blush on Mary Margaret's face before she jumps into her room and closes the door.

_Daily embarrassment of MM? Check._

Flopping on the bed, Emma resumes flipping the card in her hands. The wicked smile on her face fades as she rereads its script.

_Regina Mills. Attorney__. Mills, Spencer & Malcolm LLP._

She had researched the company as soon as she got home, further aiding Mary Margaret's obsession theory. Regina wasn't just a good lawyer- she was a lawyer _god. _Graduating at a young age, it took her a total of one year to make headlines. She had personally brought the downfall of Tellura Corp with the biggest copyright infringement settlement in history. She dabbled in many areas of law as well. There were a lot of corporate lawsuits and business lawsuits she had single-handedly won. It was intimidating to say the least.

And yet...

Regina had handed her the power to bring the whole thing crashing down on her pretty little brunette head. Corporate espionage was ten shades of illegal. If Emma were to leak this offer to the right sources, there wouldn't be a firm in the country that would hire the superstar.

"Why me?" she mutters. Glancing at the clock, Emma decides some sleep will calm this whole thing down. Her thesis review is approaching anyway, and she needs all the rest she can get.

_Maybe I'll call in tomorrow. Test the waters._

Emma sets the card on her side table, changes into an over-sized tee, nestles into her covers, and waits for sleep.

* * *

Four hours of sleep, two cups of coffee, and an eight hour shift later she's back at the kitchen table with the business card. Her coworker Ruby had noticed it, because she was fucking stupid enough to bring it with her.

_"What is this?" Ruby had teased, snatching the card from her hand while she was on break._

_The lack of sleep brought on by the 'activities' that MM and David did last night had left her a tiny bit grumpy. "None of your goddamned business," she had growled._

_The cheeky brunette continued, unaffected by her mood. "Regina Mills... Sounds hot! And better yet, she's probably loaded!"_

_Emma stalked over to the woman, and snatched the card out of her hand. "Ruby. It's none of your damn business."_

_"Sounds personal. Attached already, Emma?" Ruby simpered. Emma jumped over the table separating them. The look of horror on Ruby's face was priceless._

The owner, Granny- as they affectionately called her, had intervened before Emma reached the brunette. It had taken everything in her to not throttle Ruby. Now here she is proving Ruby right. Obsessing over a business card. She's even upset the corners are folded because of Ruby's manhandling. But she still can't bring herself to call. The kicker is she's not even sure why she's hesitating. There's really no reason _not_ to call.

Suddenly inspiration hits her, and she jumps over to her notebook on the counter. Flipping past dull articles on economic recovery and a particularly interesting article on the effect of cats on productivity in the workplace, she draws a T-chart. Pros on one side, Cons on the other.

_Okay, let's break this motherfucker down. _Grabbing a pen, she begins.

Pros:

-better hours?

-guaranteed acceptance

-at least one hot person to admire

-$$$ (this one is circled)

Cons:

-being incredibly under-qualified

-this dumb list.

Groaning, Emma shoves the notebook away from her. Why did she think that would work? This isn't middle school. Her head drops onto the table with a thud.

_Call her. _A bold part of her whispers. The rest of her is frozen in uncertainty. She remains immobile for so long her breath creates a little pool of condensation on the table._  
_

Snatching her phone, she make the last second decision to call. Procrastination is her forte, after all. She types in the numbers, holding her breath as the phone rings.

_Don't pick up. Pick up. Don't pick u- _"Regina Mills, speaking." Every muscle in her body freezes in place. Regina's voice sounds pretty much the same as yesterday in the cafe.

_Of course it sounds the same. Jesus, I'm a dumbass. _Emma mentally berates herself.

"Hello?" the lawyer probes._  
_

"Hi," she chokes out, "Emma Swan. We met yesterday?" The last part comes out as a question, as if their meeting was an uncertainty. As if it didn't rock her world.

"Emma!" Regina says warmly. It sounds like she's smiling. "Have you considered my offer?"

Shaking the cobwebs from her brain, Emma says, "Yes, actually. Even though I said yes yesterday..." she pauses for dramatic effect. _Is that a gasp I hear? _

"I just wanted to make the whole thing official," she finishes.

Regina sounds a touch out of breath as she responds, "Of course. I'll set up an appointment. What time will work for you?"

"Tomorrow at 1:30?" Emma queries.

There's a shuffle and a muted conversation. Regina is snappy and short, and her voice rises as the interruption continues. Emma hears a curt dismissal before Regina offers, "How about you come in at 12:00, and I'll treat you to lunch?"

"Sure, sounds good," Emma responds past the lump forming in her throat. _A one on one lunch? _Butterflies attack her stomach.

They spends a few more minutes working out the details. Regina snaps a few more things at what can only be her secretary. A few more minutes of details are worked out. And then a couple more. Somehow one of them brings up the news headlines. Emma makes a clever quip. Regina laughs heartily before making a snappy comeback. The lawyer brings up something new.

An hour later their phone call is ended by Regina's secretary.

A timid "Miss Mills?" is all Emma hears before Regina excuses herself.

"Unfortunately, I have a meeting. See you tomorrow?" the brunette asks.

"Of course. I look forward to it," Emma replies. They say goodbye and hang up.

She sits on her decidedly uncomfortable chair, glowing after the phone call. Stretching, she contemplates just how nice that was. Conversation had flowed effortlessly. It was as natural as breathing.

Upon seeing the time however, her breathing stops. There's only thirteen minutes before her shift starts. In a restaurant on the other side of town. And her bug is in the shop.

She shoots up out of the chair, gathering her things. "Shit shitshitshit shiiiiit!" She runs out of the apartment and to the bus stop like a fire has been lit under her ass.

_This woman will be the death of me._


End file.
